Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed.
Virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed.
But the trees were gorgeous in their autumnal leafiness - the warm odours of flowers and herb came sweet upon the sense.
He was consious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares, long, long, forgotten.
Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
Today I think Only with scents, scents dead leaves yield, And bracken, and wild carrot's seed, An the square mustard field Odours that rise When the spade wounds the root of tree, Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed, Rhubarb or celery.
A garden full of sweet odours is a garden full of charm, a most precious kind of charm not to be implanted by mere skill in horticulture or power of purse, and which is beyond explaining. It is born of sensitive and very personal preferences yet its appeal is almost universal.
Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest.
The good are better made by ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still.
She what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approv'd My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower I led her blushing like the morn all heaven And happy constellations on that hour Shed their selectest influence the earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill Joyous the birds fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub.
It was October, and the air was cool and sharp, woodsmoke and damp moss exquisitely mingled in it with the subtle odours of the pines.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories